


Please Have Snow

by bookjunkiecat



Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [9]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alexei discovers he LIKES Kent Parsons, Alexei had an abusive parent (nothing graphic mentioned), Alexei is soft, Alexei is sweet, Anxiety Attacks, Bisexual Male Character, Bottom Alexei, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Day 9 Prompt Tinsel, First Kiss, First Time, From teammates to soulmates in a hot minute, Gay Male Character, He's a bit of a disaster, Kent had an unhappy childhood and lonely adulthood, Kent has a crush, Kent has abandonment issues, Kent has major anxiety issues, Kent needs a hug, M/M, Outing oneself, PLEASE HEED TAGS, Panic Attack, Russian accent employed with the greatest fondness, Tags May Change, We Die Like Men, Who knew?, alternating pov, but we all love him, mention of past one night stands, no edits on these last two chapters, possible trigger warnings for anxiety depression panic attacks abandonment or abuse, teammates, teammates to friends to lovers, there is mutual lusting over hockey butt, top Kent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21748786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookjunkiecat/pseuds/bookjunkiecat
Summary: Newest member of the Las Vegas Aces, Alexei wanted to finally experience a traditional American Christmas. He was surprised, but pleased, when his new captain, Kent, invited him to join his family. When Alexei shows up, Kent's day has gone to hell and it all gets worse before it gets better. But they might both get the kind of family Christmas which has been missing from their lives.
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Kent "Parse" Parson, patater - Relationship
Series: Savvy's Holiday Fic [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558120
Comments: 18
Kudos: 100





	1. Zakuski

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kat for her Johnlock Xmas Christmas Prompts. I took this in another direction :)
> 
> This is my first published fic for this fandom and I am writing this with a lot of love, but very little knowledge of hockey. However, no one plays hockey in this fic, so...enjoy? :)

Alexei sang along to traditional American Christmas carols as he drove his F-350 through the perfectly manicured streets of Parson’s gated, master-planned community. The houses were tastefully decorated with white lights, manicured spruces in gilded pots, and the occasional array of cream-colored poinsettias. It was all a little drab compared to the splendor of the Vegas Strip, or indeed of the balconies of the apartment complex he had moved into shortly after being traded to the Aces.

It was cold in his new city today, but nothing compared to back East--or indeed to Russia. There was no snow--snowfall in Vegas was rare--but it was cold and damp and overcast. It had rained briefly early in the morning, but already the streets were dry. Oh, for the snows of the Eastern seaboard...although he could do without the snowfall in the Ural Mountains!

Setting aside thoughts of his homeland, unwilling to be sad on this day, Alexei steered his truck into the graveled drive that circled in front of his team captain’s large home. Since moving to Vegas, Alexei had been here a few times, always with the rest of the team. Parson was big on team-building. As the new guy, he appreciated it. He also appreciated that Parson had made an effort to set aside their former enmity and include him.

Look at him going out of his way for Christmas. Alexei had mentioned how he’d always wanted to experience a real American Christmas with a family, and to his surprise, Parson had spoken up. The invitation wasn’t unwelcome. If Alexei stayed at his apartment by himself, he would end up watching game plays, eating unwisely, and missing his mamochka. Perhaps this way he could get to know Parson better, become friendly. 

Parking, he took the insulated carrier bag from the passenger seat, tucked a bottle of vodka under his arm and approached the front door. Parson, he was pleased to see, had an arch of greenery wound with white lights and red ribbons around the brick pillars on either side of his door, which was flanked by pots of scarlet poinsettias. Finally, some color!

Knocking didn’t bring immediate results, and he waited, trying not to become impatient. Finally he rang the bell and knocked again, raising his voice to call, “Parse! Is me, are you home?”

How humiliating if he arrived to find he had been forgotten.

There was a muffled voice, then a thump, followed by a yowl. Alarmed, Alexei reached for the door handle, hoping it was unlocked. It was, and he lost no time in barging in, yelling for Parson. He was relieved to hear the other man’s voice answer from the living room. “Sorry! Sorry, here, hey, I’m here. Um, close the door, would ya? Kit’s on a tear.”

Closing the door with haste, Alexei ventured into the room. Parse was still talking, “She’s normally not one to escape, but I’m afraid she’s so panicked she might run out the door.” Alexei stopped upon finding Parson kneeling on the floor, most of him under the tall tree next to the fireplace. His ass (and truly hockey butt was a blessed, blessed thing) was on display, and Alexei swallowed, reminding himself that this was Kent Parsons, his former nemesis, and his current captain.

_ Stop noticing butts, Alyosha. _

“What is the problem?” he asked, setting his things down and focusing on the issue, not Parse’s very nice butt.

_ Damn it! No butts. _

“I’ve never had a tree before,” Parse said, inching back out from under the tree, needles and ornaments raining to the ground. “She’s been messin’ with it since I put it up last night. She knocked a couple of ornaments off and when I yelled at her, she got freaked and ran up the tree. Now she’s hiding in there.” He emerged, red-faced, blonde hair a tornado, “She’s too upset to coax her out--I think she might be tangled in the lights--and I can’t reach her without knocking over the tree.”

His obvious upset touched Alexei, who put a comforting hand on his shoulder, “Calm down, Parse, we will fetch the kitty.” He put his hands on his hips, studying the tree. “Maybe you should offer her fish or toy and I will lift the tree so you can reach her.”

Parson tossed him a grateful smile, “Thanks...but do you think you can lift it? It’s pretty big.”

Alexei snorted, “This twig? Tchah! Is nothing.” He rubbed his hands together, “Come, we rescue Kit Purrson.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

Oh god, he was doomed. His crush--and teammate, his damned captain’s brain reminded him--was standing there in a luscious red turtleneck that hugged his amazing body like a glove, looking like some kind of god. He was offering to lift ten foot trees as if they were toothpicks and rescue Kent’s cat.

“Um, okay...let’s try.” Kent hurried to get the feathered toy Kit loved, as well as some of the moist, fishy smelling treats she adored. Calling to her in his sweetest tone, he watched as Mashkov effortlessly lifted the tree, biceps bulging. 

It was no easy task, worming his way close enough to Kit, who was yowling warningly in a low, unhappy growl. “I know, baby,” he said soothingly, dragging the feathers across the floor enticingly, while holding out the shrimp. She was tangled, the poor thing, one of her back legs wrapped in the cord of the multi-colored lights Kent had strung up with such a hopeful heart the night before. He suffered scratched hands and a lot of hissing before he got her free, but once her leg was no longer tethered, Kit sprang out of the tree, off like a lightning bolt. 

Scratched and sticky with sap, Kent disentangled himself from the tree’s embrace, and watched as Mashkov set it gently back into place. Only a few more ornaments had fallen, and what looked half the tree’s worth of needles. The tree looked good though, if Kent said it himself. He hadn’t bothered with a tree in years, couldn’t remember the last time Aunt Melissa had put one up. Decorating it had been kinda nice, even if he had been alone. Decorating a tree with a family seemed like it would be...special. Speaking of family…

“Thanks, couldn’t have done it without you,” Kent said, brushing futilely at his sweatshirt. His hands came away tacky with sap, and he grimaced. “Sit down, relax! You want something to drink? I got vodka for you, the real stuff. Lemme just clean up and call my family--they were supposed to be here an hour ago.”

“I’ve brought vodka too,” Mashkov said, holding up a bottle. He effortlessly snagged a large, insulated container in one huge hand and followed Kent to the kitchen. “I made my mamochka’s priyaniki. The vareniki and pelmeni are not my own, I’m not so good a cook. I buy these from a very good restaurant though.”

“You didn’t have to bring anything,” Kent assured him, “but...I’m glad you did. We might need something to eat until dinner is ready. I’m-I’m not really much for cooking, and the catering company had an emergency and dropped all the food off. They said it would mostly just need to be heated but then Kit got stuck and--”

Mashkov did that comforting thing again, where he put his hand on Kent’s shoulder. It was massive, warm, and very grounding. He felt some of his incipient anxiety recede. “Breath, Parse. We will have a drink to warm our stomachs--very important before big meal!--then I will heat up vareniki and pelmeni while you remove tree from person and call your family.”

Kent flashed him a grateful smile, relieved that Mashkov wasn’t upset. “Thanks...be right back.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Alexei hummed to himself as he un-boxed the zakuski. He wasn’t sure how many people were going to be here, Parson had told him he would be inviting his family, but not how big they were. Better to err on side of caution and provide too much food. So he had three dozen of each kind of pelmeni and vareniki, and he’d perhaps gone slightly overboard in making the priyaniki. Possibly five dozen was too many. But there! It was done. He himself could eat a dozen, easily.

Things hadn’t started out so smoothly, but soon they would have a nice drink and some food, and the day would settle down. Or maybe not...perhaps all American Christmasses were like this and he was only now discovering it. Basing his assumptions of American traditions on movies and the Hallmark channel might be misleading.

That was what he would be doing right now, had Parse not invited him so kindly into his home. Stretched out on his extra-large sofa, a pizza box balanced on his stomach while he watched  _ Home Alone _ and Hallmark’s  _ Twelve Days of Christmas. _

After hunting fruitlessly for a sheet pan he could put the pelmeni on to warm in the oven, Alexei went in search of Parson. Coming down the hallway he could hear the faint sound of his voice, but couldn’t make out the words until he got closer, and then it was too late.

“But Amber--are you--okay. Yeah. Yeah. I  _ said _ yeah. I’m not taking a  _ tone. _ I just--I thought you and Aunt Melissa were coming? I sent her first class tickets. I begged her--I’m trying to show my friend a good Christmas.”

Alexei, realizing he had bumbled into a difficult and private conversation, froze, then began to back towards the door. 

“No--he’s not my boyfriend. Jesus. Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean every guy I know is my boyfriend!” Parson ran a distracted hand through his hair, huffing in frustration. A sound which conveniently covered Alexei’s tiny gasp of surprise. Kent Parson was  _ gay? _

Now he really needed to give the man some privacy!

  
“Please talk to your mom? Amber, c’mon, you’re my age, you can’t really think her acting like this is okay? I’m just, it’s still  _ me.”  _ Parson swung around, looking distressed. He went stock still when he saw Alexei, who was trying to slip silently out of the room. “Uh...Amber, I gotta go...Yeah, bye.” He disconnected the call, eyes still on Alexei. “So...how much of that did you hear?”


	2. Pizza & Movies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With Alexei's accidental overhearing of a very personal secret, he and Kent learn new things about one another.

Shit.  _ Shit. _ Kent felt sick. All these years of keeping the fact that he was gay a secret, and he had to go and blurt it out in front of one of his teammates--a guy who until recently hadn’t been any too fond of him. “Uh…”

Mashkov held up a hand, “Parse--Kent...is okay. I come into room and hear private conversation. None of this is my business.” His tone was firm, “Is no one else’s business either. They won’t hear from me.”

Kent let out a shaky breath, “Uh, thanks, man. Really.” It was hard to relax, considering that aside from his family--and Jack--no one really knew. Well, his agent knew, cuz that was something that could blow up in their faces if he ever slipped. Like he had now. But he had to trust that despite being new to the team, Mashkov would have the Aces’ best interests at heart. Hopefully this wouldn’t make things too awkward in the locker room, either.

“I’m sorry for coming into room, I was looking for a pan and--” the Russian’s words were interrupted by a very noisy ruckus from the direction of the kitchen, and Kent felt his heart sink. Oh god, what now?

“I’m forgetting about little cat,” Mashkov apologized, as they stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at the wreck of food scattered over the floor. “Stupid Alyosha! Leaving food out like idiot.”

“Hey,” Kent said, “It’s not a problem--I mean, I am sorry my cat messed up all the food you brought, but it’s not that big a deal, right? There’s a couple of things that didn’t make it onto the floor. Let’s heat those up while I pick these up and we can figure out how to heat up the food.”

There was a decent amount of things--zakuski, Mashkov called ‘em--left once they took stock. Mashkov took charge of heating them while Kent tried to get dinner started. “Tried” being the operative word. “I...think this is still frozen?”

Mashkov joined him. He poked at the bird. They stared at the bird. The bird failed to respond in any appreciable way. “Da. I think you’re right.”

“Crap.”

“Yes.”

They stared at the bird some more. It remained frozen. “There are sides…” which were never going to provide enough protein for the two of them. Double crap. “I have protein bars and shakes…”

Mashkov raised his head, nostrils flaring, as if offended by the very idea of protein shakes on Christmas. “I have better idea.”

Which was how Kent came to find himself two hours later, almost lying on his spine on the couch, socked feet stacked on the coffee table, a plate piled high with pizza on his chest. “This is great,” he said around a mouthful of meat lovers. Holding up one of the pelmeni--a tasty little package of pork and onions--he complimented Mashkov, “These too.”

“Good job heating the green bean casserole,” the other man said in return, from where he was stretched out at Kent’s side, with his own loaded plate. “It tastes better than it looks.”

“Looks like Kit’s puke,” Kent laughed. His head spun just a tiny bit. They’d been doing shots in between bites of food, and he thought maaaaaaybe he should slow down.

“I like these cheesy potato things,” Mashkov observed, holding one of the fancy little puffs aloft. It looked ridiculously tiny in his hand. 

“Anything with cheese is good,” Kent agreed. He stole one off of his teammate’s plate, cackling when Mashkov lunged for him. They engaged in a brief battle of elbows, laughing. “Back off, ya big lug!”

“I am big, is true,” the Russian observed serenely, “But not a lug. Graceful, Parson, I’m  _ graceful.” _

“Ha! Yeah, right. Like those hippos in  _ Fantasia _ are graceful!”

Mashkov disagreed, though he admitted he didn’t know what Kent was talking about. Kent pulled the scene up on his phone, their shoulders crowded together as they watched. “This is ballet, Parse, Russians  _ invented _ ballet. Therefore I am graceful.”

“Whatever,” Kent said, refusing to admit defeat. “More pizza?”

“I’m going to have to work out for hours,” Mashkov mourned, but piled his plate high. “More vodka?”

“I shouldn’t,” Kent said, holding out his glass. 

“Is Christmas,” Mashkov disagreed, “There’s always room for one more toast.” He topped up Kent’s glass, then his own, and held it aloft, “To the Aces!”

“To the Aces!”

“To winning the Stanley Cup!”

“Hells yeah! The Stanley Cup!”

“To being gay!”

“To--” Kent cut off, eyes narrowing on Mashkov, “Dude--”

Mashkov looked at him solemnly, “Or--to being gay if you are Kent, and bisexual if you are Alyosha.”

Not during the most hellish summer in Vegas had Kent’s throat ever been so dry. “Y-you’re bi?”

“Da.”

“I--man, wow--um,” he bit his lip, “That’s…”

“Like you, no one here knows.”

“I won’t tell,” Kent promised, meeting Mashkov--Alyosha’s eyes, “I guess we’ve each got our secrets.” One of his threatened to burst from his chest.

Alexei Mashkov, teammate, new friend, and the biggest crush Kent’d had since he was seventeen--was bisexual.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ Alyosha, are you crazy?! You tell this man--Kent Parson, who you don’t even like until a few months ago--that you are interested in men! Truly, you are an idiot! _

Aside from his parents and his little sister, no one knew that Alexei was anything but straight. Look how that had turned out. Shying away from the thought of his family’s estrangement and his banishment from his homeland, Alexei instead focused on the good things. The shy glow in his chest from sharing his closely held and rather terrifying secret was one very good thing. This unexpectedly nice day with Parson--with Kent--was another. Maybe it wasn’t a real American Christmas, but it was the nicest one he’d had in the five years he’d lived in this country. Spending it with someone else was very good. “This is the best Christmas of my life,” he said abruptly.

Kent’s eyes were wide, “Yeah?” He smiled a bit bashfully, “Me too.”

“Not with your family?” Alexei asked, curious despite himself.

“They uh...my mom died when I was little, never knew my dad. My mom’s sister raised me.” Kent took a sip of his vodka, licked his lips nervously. “She never.” He stopped, voice cutting off.

“Was she not good to you?”

“She fed me, bought me new school clothes and birthday gifts. Sent me to hockey camp and bought me skates every six months when my feet outgrew ‘em.” Kent stared into his vodka. Alexei waited patiently. This was the softest, the most vulnerable he’d ever seen the younger man. “But. She didn’t. Love me.” He blew out a shaking breath, “Think she resented me, like a, like a burden. When I signed to the Aces I bought my cousin a car, paid off my aunt’s house. She was pretty happy about that, but I don’t know, man…”

“What don’t you know?” Alexei asked gently. He wanted to put an arm around Kent, but he was worried it wouldn’t be welcome.

Kent raised damp eyes to Alexei’s face, “I felt like? She only loved me when I could do something for her? Then...then when she accidentally found out I’m gay, she stopped taking my calls.” He swallowed, obviously on the edge of tears, “I begged her to come for Christmas, told her it was important to me, that I--” Unable to go on, he covered his face with one hand, a quavery sob emerging. “Shit…”

Enough! Alexei nudged Kent’s hand, “Drink,” he commanded. Kent obeyed hesitantly. He handed him his own glass, “This one too.” Watching approvingly as Kent complied, Alexei took both glasses, set them aside and wrapped both arms around Kent, pulling him into his chest, patting his back. He tucked Kent’s head under his chin and murmured into his hair. _ Let it go, myshka. It’s okay to be sad, to be _ angry. You can cry, I’ll never tell…

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Aside from cellies, Kent couldn’t remember the last time someone had held him. It felt...wonderful. Alexei smelled wonderful, and his long arms fit perfectly around Kent, made him feel safe. He was snuggling his cheek in Kent’s hair, murmuring in Russian; Kent had no idea what he was saying, but the sound of it was soothing. As were the almost comically powerful thumps of his huge hand on Kent’s back.

His threatening tears receded, yet he stayed quiet in Alexei’s arms for a long time, selfishly enjoying being held and comforted. Eventually Alexei’s thumps stopped, and his stream of words petered out, until they were all but stretched out on the couch, lying in one another’s arms. This was dangerously veering into pure indulgence, and could possibly become really, really awkward if he didn’t call a stop to it.

“Um, thanks, I guess we should--”

Alexei put his palm on Kent’s back and gently held him from sitting up. “You can stay, myshka.” A note of uncertainty entered his voice, “Unless you want to go?”

Kent let out a breath and sank back into Alexei’s arms, daring to lay his cheek back against the other man’s chest. “Naw,” he said shyly, putting his hand on Alexei’s waist. “This is...really nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?” his teammate agreed, voice low. He ran one hand soothingly up Kent’s back, letting his fingers linger on Kent’s neck, drawing a shiver out of him. “It has been very many years since I was so close to someone.”

“Me too,” Kent admitted.

Alexei was silent for a long time, “You mean…?”

Kent blushed, even though they weren’t even looking at one another. “Um...not for like, three years.” He’d gotten tired of feeling empty and used after the furtive one-night stands, never seeing the guy again. It was better to just take care of himself and ignore the lonely ache.

Alexei was shocked, “No! A man so handsome?”

Now he was blushing in earnest, “I’m not--that isn’t--I, um, no...I haven’t, um, been with anyone since I was seventeen.” And god, was he  _ lonely _ . There were times he could have cried, he wanted someone in his life, someone who cared, to come home to, to be cherished by.

After a moment Alexei confessed softly, “It’s very difficult to be queer in Russia. Dangerous. I’ve only been with a man one time.”

For some reason Kent’s heart was racing, and he was glad Alexei couldn’t see his hot face. “Oh yeah?” He had to clear his throat, his voice was so raspy, “Um. I’m kinda surprised. Good looking guy like you.” Gorgeous. The word was gorgeous, but it held too much...something...to say out loud. 

Alexei gave an awkward little chuckle, “It’s not so easy, to be--is transparent word I want?--in the league. I haven’t found someone I wanted enough to risk it.” He swallowed, his chest moving under Kent’s head, the pound of his heart had sped up. “Not found someone who wanted me back.”

Kent curled helpless fingers in Alexei’s shirt, wanting to yell at the man,  _ are you blind?! There’s someone  _ right here  _ who’s crazy about you! _ But just because he found Alexei distractingly appealing didn’t mean he was anything other than a teammate in Alexei’s eyes. He had so say something though.

Alexei’s hand, which had been stroking gently up and down his back came to rest low on his spine, “There was no one I thought would be interested in me,” he husked, and all the hairs on Kent’s neck stood on end, “The man who my eyes like to look at was someone I thought was unavailable.”   
  


Heart in his throat, Kent turned his face so his lips were almost pressed against Alexei’s chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, trying to drown out the hopeful voice screaming in his mind, he managed to say, “You  _ thought?” _

Smoothing his hand up Kent’s back, Alexei urged him to sit up. Breath coming quick, cheeks hot, Kent sat up, putting one shaky hand on Alexei’s thigh to prop himself as the soft cushions of the couch tried to roll him closer to the other man. Excitement crowding his throat, Kent forced himself to meet Alexei’s eyes. The golden-brown depths were apprehensive, and he swallowed nervously, wetting his lower lip. Kent watched Alexei’s tongue, unconsciously mirroring the action, unaware he’d done it until Alexei groaned out something in Russian, and surged forward, kissing him.

He actually gasped a little into Alexei’s mouth, joy flooding him. Oh god, Alexei was a  _ really _ good kisser. Groaning, Kent fisted his hands in Alexei’s shirt, trying to pull him closer. He wanted to crawl into his skin, burrow into his chest, curl around his heart and feel that solid, warm assurance of being cared for that he’d never really known. 

His groan seemed to unleash Alexei from any hesitancy, and they wrapped themselves around one another, arms hungry, hands shaking. Their kisses were punctuated with moans (Kent) and desperate sounding Russian (Alexei). Alexei dragged him onto his lap--no mean feat, given Kent was two hundred pounds of muscle--and Kent went willingly, eagerly. He found himself wrapping his legs on either side of Alexei’s thighs, hungry to get closer. Alexei seemed very on board with that, hauling him closer with long arms, devouring his mouth.

They’d gone from soft and clingy to desperate and hungry in approximately two seconds, and Kent’s head was spinning, yet he’d never felt such clarity. This wasn’t sheer hormones and sex drive--being in Alexei’s arms like this was waking him up, as if he’d been asleep for years. “God, I can’t believe this is happening,” he groaned, biting Alexei’s earlobe, grinning at the deep shiver and moan it wrung from him, “how are you even real?”

“Am very real, myshka,” Alexei gasped, thrusting his hips up, holding down on Kent’s hips, “You feel that? Is all for you.”

“Shit,” Kent gasped, grinding down against him, “Alexei, shit,  _ shit.”  _ He was so worked up he was afraid he might go off in his pants like a randy teenager.

“Call me Alyosha,” he begged, tugging at Kent’s bottom lip with his teeth, nibbling it sweetly before soothing it with his tongue, “I want to hear you say Alyosha…”

“Alyosha,” he stumbled, then again, “Alyosha.” More confidently,  _ “Alyosha.” _

“Yes, myshka,” Alyosha praised, looking at him with glowing eyes, lips red and bitten--Christ,  _ he _ had done that, he’d marked him, claimed him. Kent grew harder, felt damp spread at the tip of his dick. He found himself panting, open mouthed, burning up. Alyosha tugged at his shirt and together they stripped it off, leaving Kent’s hair ruffled. Alyosha ate him up with his eyes, touching him as if unable to keep his hands off of him. “So beautiful.”

Kent  _ burned. _ No one had ever called him beautiful. “Alyosha,” he choked, torn between extreme arousal and overwhelming emotion. God, he was so fucked. If they did this, if they actually made love, he would be gone, utterly destroyed. “Can we--please--”

“Take me to your bed, myshka,” Alyosha said gently, urging him to rise to his feet. He stood with him, holding Kent’s hips, eyes locked on his, “I want to know the taste of you.”

Kent shuddered, dragging Alyosha in for a deep kiss, “Yes,” he gasped into his mouth, uncaring of what the morning would bring, of how completely fucked he was going to be when this turned out to be nothing more for the other man than an ill-advised fuck. He wanted this. He needed it. Just one night with this man who had stolen his eyes and then his heart.

  
  


* * *

  
  
  
  


Kent was normally a morning person. Years and years of waking early to walk to the city bus stop and take two hours worth of buses across LA to get to school and years of early morning practice meant he was usually up, bright eyed and ready to go, when most people were still abed. This morning though, when he woke, he felt heavy-eyed and languid. Moaning a little, he stretched, rolling over to bury his face in the pillow. 

The sweet, sore ache in unfamiliar places, combined with the intoxicating smell of Alyosha’s cologne trapped in the pillow case, brought back the night before with a rush. His face flamed hotly as he remembered grinding together, cursing and laughing, kisses that bit, touches that inflamed. He’d lain on the bed, falling helplessly in love as Alyosha had ridden him, caramel-brown eyes so soft and sweet as they’d gazed at one another. He thought he might remember the taste of his kisses for the rest of his life.

For a long, weak moment, he let himself wallow in the memories, face pressed into the cold pillow case. He was alone in bed, and he was reluctant to move, to get up and face his house without the other man in it. Finally the need to piss made him roll off the bed and head for the bathroom. Bladder emptied, he washed his face and brushed his teeth, avoiding the sight of his kiss-bitten lips and the redness of beard burn on his neck. He should really take a shower, wash away all the traces of the night from his body, but Kent found he was reluctant to remove the last evidence of the best night of his life.

When the routine actions failed to still the shake of his hands, or quiet the panic clawing inside him, Kent reached for his pills. Taking a Xanax was always something he struggled to grant himself. He'd spent most of his life living with the horrible feeling of pending doom hanging over him, the pain in his stomach, the dark thoughts, that relieving those things felt like self-indulgence. 

But he didn't think he was strong enough to face his empty house, the lack of Alexei, unaided. 

As he walked into the kitchen, he slowed, wondering why he smelled...peppermint mochas? And something savory, maybe bacon. Must be the remainder of the smell from their pizza, or something. His stomach growled loudly, reminding Kent that while his heart might be bruised, his body still needed maintenance. But he always saw to Kit’s needs before his own.

Her bowl wasn’t empty though. He stared at it, heart fluttering. He looked around, seeing their dishes from the night before had been put away, the empty pizza boxes flattened and tucked into the recycling bin. Breath coming a little fast, trying not to feel too hopeful, he walked through the house.

There was lamplight and the glow of Christmas tree lights warming the living room. The low rumble of a very familiar voice speaking in Russian. Kent stopped, breathing down a rising feeling of something that felt like anxiety and joy mixing wildly inside him. He didn’t even try to smooth out whatever his face was doing, it was beyond his control. 

Alyosha was sprawled on the rug, trying to untangle Kit, who had gotten wrapped up in a length of tinsel she’d pulled loose from the tree. There were a few ornaments scattered on the ground and it was clear the tree was not going to fare well with Kit around. Despite Kit’s indignance at being touched, Alyosha was gentle as he helped free her.

“Hey,” Kent rasped, feeling himself falling beyond hope. He didn’t even care.  _ Hurt me, _ he thought,  _ break me with love before you go. Just don’t go yet. _

“Myshka,” he said, looking up with a huge smile, eyes bright, “You’re awake, little one.”

It was probably absurd to be called little one, he was anything but. Kent’s hungry, lonely heart, however, thought otherwise, and he nearly melted. “You’re still here.” The sudden release of the dreadful anxiety which had gripped him left him dizzy and uneven. His first instinct was to walk right into Alyosha’s arms and hold him so tightly it left him breathless; only with extreme self-control did he manage to restrain himself. Just because the man hadn’t left after the most extremely sexy and emotional night of Kent’s life didn’t mean he had stuck around out of some sort of  _ emotion. _

Alyosha tilted his head a little, smiling sweetly, “Of course I am still here, myshka.” His face went solemn, “Was I not...should I have left?”

“No!” Kent blurted out, “I’m really, really glad you’re here. I just…” thought it was a one-night stand. Thought Alexei would hit it and quit it like the pitifully few others he’d let into his bed. He finished lamely, “Thought you’d want to leave.”

Alexei stood, letting Kit scamper off. He approached, slowly, as if afraid to startle Kent, as though he were as wild and prone to bolting as Kit. “I’d like to stay,” he said solemnly, reaching for Kent, who went into his arms as naturally as if he belonged there. “Last night was wonderful, myshka.”

Kent’s eyes felt suspiciously damp. “It was,” he sort of sniffed. They kissed gently, finally parting for breath. Alyosha pressed his forehead to Kent’s, big hands rubbing up and down his back, occasionally giving him one of those wonderful thumps. Kent’s knees felt weak. He had a suspicion he was going to quickly become addicted to Alyosha’s thumps. “What’s myshka mean?”

Alyosha paused, as if translating in his head, “Little mouse? Mousling?”

Kent was not a puddle of lovestruck goo. “Mousling, Mashkov, really?” He tried to sound teasingly annoyed, but he was pretty sure he just sounded lovesick.

Humming, he kissed Kent, “Last night you call me Alyosha. Now am Mashkov?”

“When you call misbehave I’m gonna call ya Mashkov,” Kent teased.

  
Alyosha grinned, “Will you also spank me, Kent Parson?” His voice dropped, “I think maybe I will like this.” His voice deepened even further, taking all of the remaining strength out of Kent’s knees. “I think maybe I just like  _ you, _ Kent Parson.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> myshka- Russian for 'mousling'


	3. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent fails to deal well with the morning after. Fortunately Alexei knows what it is to be a good teammate--and a better lover.

His mamochka had always told him he wore his big heart on his sleeve. Alexei supposed that hadn’t changed since childhood. He’d just told Kent he liked him, and while the words were simple, his tone had given it all away. He was falling fast. Had maybe been falling for a long time. The past few years, when he was with the Falconers, Alexei had objected to Kent on principal, as an opponent, and a bit personally, because Zimmboni clearly had issues with him. 

If he was going to be honest with himself, however, Alexei would have to admit that he’d felt superficially attracted to Kent despite the enmity. A little fear had been mixed in, as well; given the environment he’d grown up in, and the heavily masculine and heterosexual atmosphere of the NHL. Until Zimmboni had come out so spectacularly the year before, there hadn’t been any openly homosexual professional hockey players. Alexei had contented himself with casually dating women, suppressing his attraction to men, and saving his money for the day he could convince his mamochka and his sister, Karine, to leave his father and his hatred and his heavy fists behind, and move to America.

There hadn’t been any reason for him to deviate from his lifestyle. No compelling reason to risk censure--and maybe risk not having his contract renewed.

But Kent. Kent was quickly burrowing into his heart. Alexei was a little afraid he wouldn’t be able to budge him. The idea of having Kent in his bed and his life though...that was wonderful. Being with him made Alexei feel like the Grinch. Like his heart had been shriveled and underused until he let himself get to know Kent.

It was why he’d woken early, Kent curled in his arms as if he belonged there, and laid for a long time in the half-light of dawn and watched his sleeping face. The thick, blunt lashes, the beginnings of stubble on his sharp jaw, the thin upper lip and biteable full lower lip. It was why he’d stolen quietly from the house and driven to the nearest grocery store, looking for ways to show Kent some of the tenderness swelling inside him. He’d ended up buying the makings for peppermint mochas, and all of the ingredients for a very decadent breakfast that Alexei had found after half an hour online.

“I was going to surprise you with breakfast in bed,” he said now, after his words about a spanking had resulted in a good ten minutes of extremely enthusiastic kissing and frotting. “But you wake before I’m finished.”

Kent was...starry-eyed. Alexei knew just how he felt. Maybe it was simply because they’d both held themselves back from this part of their natures for so long. Or maybe this was the beginning of something wonderful. Alexei knew which he hoped it was.

“Can breakfast wait?” Kent asked breathlessly, stretching up to reach Alexei’s jaw. He nibbled along the sensitive underside, breathed against Alexei’s skin, “I know what I want to eat, and it isn’t eggs.”

“You’re much tastier than quiche,” Alexei agreed, “Which will take long time to cook.” He echoed his words of the night before, “Take me to bed, Kent Parson, my myshka.”

“Fuck yes,” Kent sighed, and vaulted into Alexei’s arms. He caught him firmly, thrilling when Kent wrapped his powerful legs around his waist. Cupping Kent’s very, very excellent butt in his hands, Alexei attended to kissing him as they stumbled down the hall toward the bedroom, giggling as they banged blindly into the walls.

Falling gratefully onto the bed, they rolled and tussled, trying to reach everywhere at once. Alexei was so hard it hurt. He’d showered in the guest bath after waking, and he was fresh and clean, but already the smell of fresh arousal rose when Kent dragged his pants down. He followed with his hands and lips, drawing groans from Alexei, who arched up into his touch. His body softened and warmed under the eager, deft ministrations; it was touching, how gently Kent touched him, as if Alexei were precious and fragile, not a lumbering dummy who played good hockey and spoke poor English.

When he was pliant, panting from the slow press of Kent entering him, Alexei lost all grasp of English and could only brokenly beg Kent in Russian to fill him, to leave him feeling every moment of this in the days to come. He was tender from the night before, his first time, but he yearned to feel the press of their flesh, to know Kent’s gentle thrusting one more time. _May it not be for the last time,_ he found himself thinking.

_Moya lyubov’_ Alexei gasped, and meant it. My love.  _ I could love you, if you would let me, _ he realized, staring into Kent’s dark blue eyes, drowning. Kent looked almost pained, sweating and gasping as he obviously held himself back, thrusting slowly. “Give me yourself,” Alexei pled in Russian, fingers clutching tight to Kent’s hips, trying to pull him deeper. He wished Kent wasn’t wearing a condom. He wanted to feel him fill him when he came, wanted to know the hot lap of Kent’s tongue on his asshole, feel his fingers twist deep. All those things he’d seen in porn, or read in erotic stories...he wanted to experience them with Kent.

Just thinking about it was enough to trigger his own tremulous orgasm, and Alexei bellowed when he came, shouting brokenly, fingers spasming in the twisted sheets. “Ah shit,” he distantly heard Kent grunt, and he thrust, fast and shallow, face contorting, until he came, shaking, and fell onto Alexei, who received him gratefully. They clung, dripping with sweat and panting, arms possessive, muscles loose. Alexei’s chest heaved like a bellows as he struggled to catch his breath.

Kent sprawled on him limply, barely moving until his softening cock slipped from Alexei, who instantly missed him. Reluctantly lowering his legs, Alexei kept his arms around Kent, holding him close.

“That was...amazing…” Kent said breathlessly, rubbing his nose between Alexei’s pecs, right where he was sweatiest. Alexei would have apologized--he felt like a messy caveman--but Kent hummed and licked at his sweat. “You taste wonderful.”

“Not too much sweat?” Alexei asked, a little anxious. He’d dated women who complained that he was too big, too sweaty, too hairy. Too loud and boisterous and enthusiastic. Too much. He was used to apologizing for just taking up room in bed.

“Are you crazy?” Kent breathed, raising his head to look at Alexei with incredulous eyes, “You’re so sexy it’s been driving me crazy for months. And seeing you like this? All hot and sweaty because of what we did together?” He licked Alexei’s nipple, nuzzled him again, “I want to rub myself all over you.”

  
  
Alexei went red. “Myshka,” he choked out, thrilled and embarrassed. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy for you, maybe,” Kent muttered, and then stilled, as if he’d heard his own words. 

Alexei wondered if Kent meant them. If he regretted saying it. Heart racing, he dared to say, “I’m very glad...I’m crazy for you also.”

Kent’s fingers on his chest trembled, then stilled. He breathed deeply for a few moments, while Alexei’s regret and embarrassment raged out of control. Then, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, Mashkov.” Kent sounded so small. Not at all the brash, self-assured man he’d first met.

“You are calling me Alyosha,” he pointed out, petting Kent’s back, as if gentling a wary animal. “Why do you call me ‘Mashkov’?”

Kent raised his head, looking so uncertain, younger than his twenty-three years. He had several false starts, before he was finally able to speak, “Cuz I-I’m serious...I’m crazy about you...and I’m scared this--us--isn’t going anywhere.” His mouth was soft, as if he might cry, “...I don’t think I can take just being teammates after this.”

“I don’t know if we were ever just teammates,” Alexei confessed, smoothing his hands up and down Kent’s back, unable to keep from touching him, “Always you bother me, from the first time I meet you. I think it’s anger--you’re so arrogant--” he ignored Kent’s reluctant huff of outraged amusement, “--but I find myself thinking of you. Then when I find out I’m traded to Aces...I say I’m angry to have to come play with you, but really I think I’m scared to have to see you all the time.”

“I’m...sorry?”   
  


Alexei laughed, hugged him tightly, pleased beyond words when Kent hugged him back, clinging tightly, “Don’t apologize, my little mouse. I’m scared because you make me feel. Make me feel things I’ve spent years ignoring.” He ducked his head to whisper in Kent’s ear, “But there is no ignoring you, Kent Parson.” He kissed his cheek, “I’m saying yes, Kent. Whatever you want, what you need...I want to find out together. Find out if we can be teammates and more than teammates.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


His anxiety meant that sometimes “normal” emotional responses got sort of scrambled inside him. Kent didn’t always process things easily. Instead of laughing, he might cry. Instead of crying, he’d lash out in anger. It had led to a lot of problems over the years, and it was something he’d been trying really hard to work with during therapy sessions.

So rather than being ecstatic that Alexei apparently wanted to find out what kind of relationship they might have, Kent panicked.

His breathing stuttered, growing erratic, as his heartbeat went off-kilter. Cold dampness broke out along his already sweat-dampened hairline, and in the small of his back. Unable to vocally respond, he husked out a wordless protest, and curled to the side, away from Alexei, to whom he’d been clinging like a limpet until just a few moments before. His anxiety was very, very well-hidden, especially from his team, and Kent wanted to shout at Alexei to leave him alone, to get the hell out. He didn’t need anyone witnessing this. Weakness was an opening for someone to hurt you, something for them to exploit when they needed an advantage.

But he couldn’t summon the strength to push the other man away, just tried to ignore him, and his increasingly worried pleas to talk to him, and hoped he’d get a clue and go away. Thinking of Alexei giving him solitude sent a spike of panic through him. _ Don’t go, _ he thought frantically,  _ don’t leave me, don’t, please, don’t leave me alone any more.  _ He’d been alone for so fucking long. He was tired of being alone.

Instead Alexei drew him close and wrapped him in his arms. Caressing his back and arms, Alexei cuddled him, murmuring in his ear, more Russian that he didn’t understand, but which was inexplicably comforting. As Kent’s initial panic began to recede, Alexei seemed to recognize it, and his thumps and pats softened, his words morphing into English. “Is okay, myshka, it will be okay.” He dipped his head, kissing Kent’s hair, “I’m not going anywhere, unless you want me to go.”

Which was when Kent realized he’d been pouring his internal thoughts out in a panic-stricken stream-of-consciousness. Before he could dissolve in embarrassment and worry, Alexei brushed tender lips over Kent’s ear. “I’m alone too. Maybe it’s time we are both happy, no?”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


After his meltdown, it took Kent a while to come down from his emotions. Alyosha held him, rubbing his back, nuzzling him and asking sweetly if he were okay. When the timer for the quiche went off, he left Kent only long enough to turn off the oven and put the food in the microwave to keep it safe from Kit. “I learn my lesson,” Alyosha chuckled, crawling back into bed and drawing Kent back into his arms as if he belonged there. “I have to be smarter than clever kitty.” Settling back against the pillows he’d piled against the headboard, Alexei coaxed Kent to lean against him. He put an arm around him, pulled him close. “I bring you coffee, myshka, but also water. Drink this and then you can have coffee.”

While Alexei had been out of the room, Kent had wiped his tear-and-sweat-damp face on the sheet, but he was still snuffly and felt quiet and sort of empty, the way he did after a rush of powerful emotion. Alexei had seen his terrible anxiety and not only hadn’t run away, but was treating him with gentle chivalry, while not acting as if Kent were diminished in any way for his emotional outburst. 

Obediently Kent drank the water, finding as he did so, how thirsty he was. He managed to meet Alexei’s eyes as he handed him the glass, and found they were steady and non-judgemental. “Sorry about all...that.” he waved a vague hand.

Alexei curled his hand around Kent’s bicep, fingers rubbing softly, “I will not say is nothing, myshka. But you don’t have to apologize to me. I’m glad I was here. Is hard to be alone when fear gets teeth into you.” He swapped the empty water glass out for a mug of coffee, handing it to Kent, then picking up his own. “Are you not wanting to have clumsy Alyosha here any longer?” His tone was light, but underlaid with a thread of worry. “You have only to tell me. I won’t stay if you don’t wish. Last night, it doesn’t make you happy, I think.”

Kent didn’t want Alexei, kind, earnest Alexei, to think he had made him unhappy. “It wasn’t you,” he said huskily, voice rough with emotion. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Something I say hurts you though, I think.”

He hesitated. “You--you said we could try together. Like you wanted to be with me. Like, like it would be easy.” Worth it, he thought. Alexei had said it as if the idea of facing so many goddamned obstacles would be worth it if he had Kent at his side.

“Not easy. No. I don’t think it would be easy. But worth it, yes.” Alexei laughed a little. “You make me happy, Kent Parson.”

The glow in Kent’s heart actually hurt a little, it was so bright, so warm. “You--make me happy too.”

“Good.” Alexei laced their hands together. “I think maybe we both need happy.”

“It won’t be--you make it sound easy,” Kent repeated.

“Easy, no. But myshka, we are hockey players...we know how to fight for what we want.” He smiled, “I want you.”

Kent hung for a long moment, breathless with panic, then let himself fall, “I want you too.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


_ The following Christmas Eve _

Snowy looked around with curiosity, taking in the abundance of colorful Christmas decor, “This is...a lot.”

“Alyosha loves Christmas more than any kid,” Kent said fondly, eyes automatically finding his boyfriend. I love you, he thought, and as if he’d heard him, Alyosha looked up, directly at him, and smiled brilliantly. 

“Myshka!” he called loudly, over the sound of dozens of loud hockey players and their girlfriends, wives and kids, “Come here!”

Kent crossed the room, Snowy trailing him. “What is it, babe?” Even after six months of being “out,” both to the team and to the greater world, he thrilled to these casual endearments in public.

“Tell Murphy he has to see the Hallmark movie we watch last night! He says is only for old women.”

Kent laughed at his boyfriend’s disbelieving pout, stretching up to kiss his cheek, “You’re so cute,” he murmured, for Alyosha’s ears alone, “Just wait until later.” To Murphy he said, “It’s true, it was really good. You should give it a try.” His look at his boyfriend was fond, “This one has seen every one ever made, I swear. He’s got an encyclopedic knowledge of every cheesy Christmas movie.”

Murphy scoffed, but Kent squeezed Alyosha’s hand and tuned them out, looking around the room happily. It was their first formal event to host as a couple, and he was glad it was the team, their family, on a family holiday. Not all of the guys had been completely accepting of them at first, seeming to fear that since they had two not-straight men in the locker rooms that somehow they were vulnerable. Kent had been ready to kick ass, but Alyosha had just bellowed with laughter, pointed at Kent’s (admittedly the best in the league) hockey butt, and said, “You think I look at  _ you  _ when I can look at him? Tcha! You’re crazy!”

While that had diffused the situation somewhat, it still took a meeting with management, a sensitivity training course, and Swopes threatening to knock “all your Neanderthal heads together if you don’t stop acting like close minded dicks” to settle things down. Now look at them all. Everyone had accepted their invitation, except for Stinky, who had flown back home to Florida to visit his fiancee’s parents to ask for Trisha’s hand in marriage. 

After all these years, he finally had a family. A strange, cobbled together one, maybe, but Kent was pretty happy. His cousin Amber had even emailed him on his birthday to apologize for the previous Christmas, and tell him she hadn’t wanted to interfere, but that her mom’s attitude bugged her. Things weren’t exactly hunky dory with them, but Kent was glad to know that his cousin didn’t hate him.

So tonight was the first of what he hoped would be many Christmas Eve parties where the team could gather for food and fun, before they dispersed to their family celebrations. Tomorrow would be just for him and Alyosha, and Kit. Their own tiny family.

Smiling to himself, Kent was only jostled out of his thoughts when Alyosha put an arm around him and gave him an excited shake, “Myshka! Look! It’s snowing!”

Following his pointing finger, and then the surge of surprised party-goers, towards the window, Kent stared at the fresh white veil in amazement. “Snow...damn.”

Alyosha wrapped his arms around him from behind and murmured in his ear, “It will be a white Christmas, moya lyubov’. A perfect Christmas together. You, me and Kit Purrson.” Alyosha kissed his cheek, “Is perfect.”

“Yeah,” Kent breathed, eyes prickling with tears, “It is.” A perfect Christmas miracle to crown the most perfect year of his life. “I love you,” he said stumblingly in Russian, the first time he’d said it in Alyosha’s mother-tongue, and heard his big soft teddy bear’s breath catch before he said in a teary voice, “I love you too, my little mouse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a FUN ride. I would keep going for another ten chapters and really draw it out, but this was only meant to be 2-3k words AT MOST. But these two wanted to take their time. Bless.
> 
> Moya lyubov’= masculine form for 'my love' in Russian

**Author's Note:**

> Russian:  
> mamochka- mama  
> Alyosha- nickname for Alexei  
> Priyaniki-Russian honeycomb cookies  
> Pelmeni-Russian dumpling usually filled with meat, pork or fish  
> Vareniki-Russian dumpling usually filled with potato, cheese, sauerkraut, cabbage, etc.  
> zakuski-snacks


End file.
